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Okay, so, yeah, I haven’t posted in like … um … forever? I’ve had my hands full. I’ve been working on my latest novel, Story of Meabh, and I’m in the midst of applying to grad school to get my MFA in Creative Writing. Yeah, I know … go figure. What chances has a guy got who’s over 50, without connections, long-term unemployed and impoverished, college-educated, Caucasian, two steps left of Progressive, and about 99.9% male? (You have to allow that 0.1% as margin-for-error … and for the sugar I put in my coffee.)

I’m so anxious, I’m coming out of my skin. Oh, baby, daddy wants this. It’s time to take off the kid gloves and go professional. Time to get serious. Take the next step to getting better. I want to teach writing and talk writing and help other writers to improve. I want my books read, my scotch straight, and my refrigerator so full it may give birth.

I’m taking space. I’m taking time. So, hush now, and let me write.

I can’t afford the GRE (the waivers are only for current undergraduates through the financial aid office wherever they are attending), and I can’t afford programs that aren’t fully funded. Without fee waivers for the applications, I cannot apply. Without tuition waivers and a full fellowship for room & board and basic living expenses, this dream is another Quixotic gallop at a windmill. But this old knight has no choice. The dragon must be slain.

I’m competing with thousands for a handful of seats where winners of the Pulitzer Prize and the Nobel once sat. I’d be a fool if I was not intimidated.

But I can do this. Yes, I can. I know I can. I know I must.

I’m in the midst of writing the application essays. Of course, the two programs I’m applying to don’t ask for the same thing. One wants three essays, and the other wants one. Between a dictionary, a linguist, a Babble translator, the Rosetta Stone, and whatever I can dredge up on the web, I’m still trying to figure what goes into a Statement of Purpose and what the hell the difference is between a “Personal History” and an “Autobiographical Statement”. Seriously, they are two different things. Each has its own purpose, and yet some of the text may overlap.

Tell us all about yourself, give us a clear picture, tell us why you want this degree, why you want it here, and why we should let you go for it. Be different than anyone else applying, be terrific, and while you’re at it, don’t sound like a self-absorbed prick.

Okie-dokie.

And at the same time, I’m flailing to keep my head above the water and to ward the sharks away. Why does that hammerhead remind me of my father? Why does he keep pulling me under? Do we need a bigger boat? Hell, I’d settle for a dinghy. Who tied this anchor to my waist?

So that’s what I’m up to. Writing. Writing and applying. And paddling in the open waters.

BECOME AN APPRENTICE! Click FOLLOW on the right of your screen to stay tuned for exclusive updates on Marc Royston’s Novels and Appearances.

Greetings, Merry Tricksters. I am Marc Royston, author of Hecate’s Faun (available now at Amazon.com), The Story of Méabh (current project), and The Wizard Ignites (Volume I of A Wizard’s Life) (UPCOMING RELEASE from My Boy Publishing).

For this stop of the Virtual Fantasy Con 2016 Blog Hop Hunt, I am your happy host. Welcome to my worlds of fantasy, horror, and science fiction. Keep your shoes off the sofa. And remember: the demons bite.

Somewhere on this page is a hidden number. Collect all the numbers from all the authors’ posts, and then add them up. Once you’ve added all the numbers, and if I am your last author, please head to the official website and click on the ENTER HERE page to find the entry form. Only entries will the correct number will qualify to win.

Jonathan Fesmire is a steampunk author, blogger, and podcaster living in Orange County, California. He loves going to steampunk related events with his son, where they both dress in their Wild West garb and hang out at Disneyland.

Jonathan began his career as a fantasy writer, and has three related novels published. His first steampunk novel, Bodacious Creed: a Steampunk Zombie Western, is due out in November 2016.

The first two weeks of January, 1876 filled Anna Lynn Boyd with trepidation she had not experienced since childhood. From age seventeen to twenty she had been a soiled dove out on the edge of the American frontier, yet even then she never felt so worried.

On January third she stood on the porch of The House of Amber Doves. That restful platform turned at a corner and faced two streets, Pacific and Soquel. Anna ended her life as a prostitute when she left just about three years ago, glad to be out from under the thumb of the madam, Margarita Fullerton. Funny enough, last August she had returned and bought the place outright, building and business. Most of the women now in Anna’s employ were happy to see her and relieved at Fullerton’s retirement.

Anna’s next big announcement came to a shock not only to the girls, but to many living in Santa Cruz. She had scheduled major renovations and remodeling for The House of Amber Doves. She paid for long-term hotel rooms for each of her twenty doves. The women couldn’t fathom how Anna could afford all this, but she said her uncle had passed away and left her his fortune. A lie, but she had secrets she felt far from ready to share.

By early December the construction was finished. The building, once two stories, now stood at three. Before, several girls often had to share the same room, but now each had a room of her own. The saloon on the first floor now boasted a stage, a long bar, a larger kitchen, and a winding staircase. Anna resided on the first floor, her room past the kitchen and down a hallway.

Most notably surprising to all the girls were the new steam generators attached to the outside of the building, something Fullerton had never bothered to pay for. Of course, such amenities were new, but many other businesses and even ordinary folks already had them generating electricity for refrigeration, lights, and other inventions from Morgan’s Mechanicals. No more lamps and candles for the girls. They now had Tesla bulbs to light their rooms. The kitchen could now stock enough food to serve some of the city’s best meals to its patrons. In short, the House of Amber Doves had joined the fast pace of the times.

If only the girls knew the major part Anna had played.

In the alley behind The House of Amber Doves, Anna looked over the steam generator attached to the wall. One of three that powered the saloon and brothel, it had stopped giving off its low hum and the thin white steam had trailed off.

The steel machine, a convex circle four feet in diameter, had a metal tube with thicker edges on top, where the steam escaped. Anna had brought up a screwdriver, pegging this generator the culprit when power went out on the second floor.

After removing four screws, she opened the panel on the upper right side and carefully set all pieces in the dirt at her feet.

Underneath was a Morse key, exactly the sort one used to send telegrams, but this one allowed her to send a password to the generator. Anna tapped it in and the large circular plate in the center swung open to the left.

Anna gasped. She didn’t generally like surprises, unless they were especially good. This fell into the bad category. How in the world had this, of all things, gotten down into this tubing? She had to breathe deeply several times to calm her pounding heart. She then grabbed the obstruction around the middle and pulled out the dead white cat. It gave off the musky smell of wet hair and cooking meat.

This full-sized adult feline must have climbed through the tube at the top, just about twenty minutes back, and died.

With the body gone, Anna flipped an internal switch. The generator design was such that, if anything blocked the tubing, the whole machine would shut off. She knew exactly how it worked, down to the slow flow of otherworldly aether that gave the steam more force and caused it to last longer. No one had figured out how the aether worked, causing the boiling water to last much longer, multiplying the escaping steam, but it did. Anna’s machines made the engines from just two years ago look ancient by comparison.

Within a few minutes, light would return to the second floor. She closed the circular hatch, heard the lock slip into place, and screwed on the first panel. Anna then knelt and patted the cat. The generator had not shut itself off immediately. The cat’s moist fur scarcely covered the blistered skin on its face. The mouth hung open, revealing its charred tongue. The engine had probably seared its lungs, killing the animal quickly though painfully.

Yet this death was recent, which made it promising. Just maybe, Anna could reverse it.

Back inside, the House of Amber Doves bustled with activity. Danielle, a robust dark-haired gal in her late twenties, rushed up to Anna at the bar, pulling along the young ranch hand. “Lights ‘r on, thank you!” she exclaimed. The gentleman smiled sheepishly as they hurried upstairs to Danielle’s room on the second floor.

Anna loved the new technology that she in secret had helped to bring about. Like all good advancements, it made life easier. For her it came down to efficiency, and that meant better use of energy and time.

The chill air and northern wind convinced many of Anna’s customers to sit by the fire in the saloon’s expansive main room. Others migrated to the quieter back section behind the stage. On that raised, half-circle platform, Whiskey Zombie Collective performed a trail tune with guitar, fiddle, and banjo.

Anna knew her presence in the saloon added to the morale of the girls and that many of the men were happy to see her there. Some here had been her regular johns in years past, but no more, though some still propositioned her. It wouldn’t be the worst idea though, now and then, maybe better than trusting one man with her secrets.

Funny enough, at that moment Jonathan Johns moseyed in though the wide open doors. Anna pegged him for about nineteen, or four years younger than she. He put his thumbs in his suspenders and glanced around for a table. His sleeves were rolled up, his baggy trousers covering the necks of his walking boots. Though slender, he radiated a quiet strength with well-defined arms. It was the sort of look Morgan’s Automatons used for their many standard steelies.

Anna took a quick glance at the two automatons that stood beside the stairs. These guard models, Christmas gifts from Miles Morgan, she had named Lucky and Dixie. Though they’d made some guests uncomfortable for a few days, by New Year’s they had become fixtures of the saloon.

Her eyes immediately went back to Jonathan Johns, who many in town called Jojo. When Anna had ostensibly left Santa Cruz three years ago he hadn’t been around, but she’d noticed him immediately when she came back. He had a long, chiseled face and wild blond hair. She bit her lip and wondered if he could be wild in the bedroom as well.

Anna had never seen Jojo in the saloon before, just around town doing odd jobs. She had even noticed him working on a steam generator at the bank. He had to be bright, and Anna found that as attractive as his looks.

As he sat at the bar, Anna thought she might have a shot of whiskey to settle her nerves. Before she could turn, he addressed her.

“Howdy ma’am. What sorts of vittles you serve?”

“All sorts.” She passed him a menu from a shelf under the bar. He took it in his wiry hands. Anna turned around to catch her breath. She knew this was stupid. She never had such nerves around any of the men she’d taken to bed, nor now when she’d flirt to encourage more business.

Karla, a prostitute who did double duty as a barmaid, leaned toward Jojo, arms on the bar to press her breasts together, deepening her cleavage. “You’re new here, but I’ve seen you around town. Maybe I could interest you in some dessert after dinner.”

Anna watched through the mirror behind the bottles of scotch, ale, and whiskey. She had to force herself not to turn around and pull Karla away. If Jojo wanted to fuck one of the girls, who was she to get in the way of her own business, or of any of them making the money they relied on? Never very good at hiding her emotions, Anna noticed her worried look in the mirror.

Jojo turned over the menu and said, “Yeah, I might have some dessert. Chocolate cake looks mighty fine.”

Anna stifled a giggle.

“No,” Karla said, leaning closer, “you know what I’m talking about.”

Business or not, Anna acted on instinct and positioned herself next to Karla, so close that she pushed the dove aside an inch.

“You’re new here,” she said a little too loudly to Jojo. “Your first meal and dessert are on the house. I recommend the steak and potatoes for a hard worker like you. Rare. The steak I mean. Have the steak rare.”

Karla gave Anna a hard pat on the shoulder and asked another man if he needed a refill on his drink.

In fact, they had cold beer on tap, device and refrigeration courtesy of Morgan’s Mechanicals. Anna filled an oaken mug for him. The beer came from a shop a few blocks away, Front Street Brewery.

She set the mug in front of him, careful not to let any spill, then flashed him a smile and stepped into the kitchen through the batwing doors to the side of the bar. “Steak, rare, and taters for our special guest,” she called. Marjory Smullen, cook and daughter of the nearby stable owner, gave Anna a nod.

Marjory called out the meal from the back and Anna served Jojo his meal, a refill on the beer, and an especially large slice of chocolate cake. They hardly exchanged a word. The rest of the evening, shyness gripped her. Jojo seemed to lack a talkative streak. As she worked at the bar, she felt a growing awkwardness between them.

When he finished, Jojo patted his belly with satisfaction, thanked Anna, and went back out the front door. He left a dollar on the counter, more than what the meal would have cost. A gentleman to boot. Anna’s lips formed a melancholy smile and she felt stupid for not asking Jojo more about himself. She wanted to know how he’d come to Santa Cruz and how he’d learned to fix so many things. She resolved herself to do just that the next time he came by.

As Anna swept the porch the next afternoon she had that white cat in mind. She had spent the morning with it, looking over its face. The scars had already faded some underneath its fur.

After that, when Anna had left her room, Hattie Kean was playing the second movement of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7 on the piano up on stage. She considered requesting a more uplifting tune, but Hattie had her eyes closed and looked so mesmerized that Anna decided to let it go. The girl played well, but Santa Cruz had no demand for a concert pianist, so she sold sex instead and taught a few music students on the side. Joella, a tall blonde girl of Swedish ancestry, swept the porch and told Anna the wind had kicked up dust that morning. Anna offered to take over for a simple reason. She spotted Jojo across the street.

Though the dirt on the roads had become about as packed down as could be, it seemed every other day someone hit a hole with a wagon wheel. Jojo knelt over one now, having a look at the damage. Two crates, probably borrowed from the general store, held up the left back side of the wagon. The horse seemed calm enough, chewing on feed from its grazing muzzle.

Jojo had a pack of tools slung across his back. He dropped it beside him and took out a wide wrench.

“What’s taking so long?” Bill growled at Jojo. He and another ranch hand, Champ, stood watching Jojo work. Judging by the 98 crates in the back of the cart, the two had come into town from Rancho de Mierdino to make a delivery when their wagon hit a rock or pothole and needed fixing.

Champ stood a head shorter than Bill and both men wore dusty linsey-woolsey trousers and brown shirts with sweat stains under their armpits.

More than once, Anna had seen Bill use his height to intimidate others. In her days as a dove she had always avoided him when he’d visit the brothel.

“That’s all right, Bill,” Champ said. “We still have time to get back. Let Jojo do the job right.”

“It’s not broken, not really,” Jojo said. “It just got loose. I’ll get it fixed up in a few minutes. If I put it on now it’s liable to crack or collapse on your way out of town. You don’t want this out of alignment.”

“Don’t tell me what I want!” Bill roared. He lifted his boot and kicked Jojo with the flat of it, hard, knocking the younger man into the dirt.

Anna gasped. She knew all about Bill’s predilection for bullying, but she had never actually witnessed him attack anyone before. Maybe he’d been drinking. She had a mind to stamp out there and whack him silly with the broom handle.

“Hey, hey now!” Champ took hold of his partner’s arms and pushed Bill back a pace.

Bill pushed against Champ, knocking him back several paces. He stepped toward Jojo again.

The tinker got to his feet, grabbed Bill by the arms, forced him around, and punched him square in the kidney. He then swept a foot against Bill’s leg, making the larger man fall on his face.

Though his breathing sounded forced, painful, Bill seem able to take in a little more air with each breath. Jojo tried to work calmly on the wheel, but even from this distance, Anna witnessed his shaking hands.

She caught her own breath but couldn’t look away. A minute later Bill stood and leaned with hands on knees taking labored breaths. Jojo finished reattaching the wheel to the cart.

“You’re all set to go,” Jojo said.

“Thank you kindly,” said Champ as he tried to help Bill get into his seat. The larger man jerked his arms back in a combination threat and refusal to let his partner assist, then climbed aboard with all the grace of an angry toddler. As the men rode off, Anna thought of going to Jojo, but he turned and went into the general store.

I’ve been writing since I was around eleven or twelve. Reading and writing were an obsession, and I not only enjoyed countless novels, but also devoured books on the writing craft. Over the years I’ve written dozens of short stories, several novels, and in the last six years or so a ton of blog posts and articles.

Though I started off writing fantasy, inspired by J.R.R. Tolkien, Lloyd Alexander, and others, I’ve since fallen in love with the steampunk movement. I especially enjoy Wild West steampunk, which is why I’m focused on that sort of setting with my novel Bodacious Creed: a Steampunk Zombie Western. I intend for it to be the start of a series.

Writing gives me something to focus on. It’s a truism that people enjoy doing things they’re good at, and after decades of practice, I can say I’m good at writing. Here’s another one. Writers are driven to write, whether they’re new to it or old hands. I let my characters drive my stories, and that’s a challenge, especially when I’m juggling heroes, villains, and dozens of side characters. That’s just one of the things I find exciting, especially when writing a novel.

BECOME AN APPRENTICE! Click FOLLOW on the right of your screen to stay tuned for updates and for exclusive material on Marc Royston’s A Wizard’s Life, an epic adult fantasy soon to be released as a serialized novel.

Virtual FantasyCon is an annual ONLINE Convention making its return in October 2016.

If you are a fan of Speculative Fiction (Fantasy, Science Fiction, and Horror) this is THE event you must not miss. It’s entertaining, it’s fun, it’s educational, and best of all:

The Virtual Fantasy Con is FREE.

And you don’t even have to leave your house to attend! The location is your computer. You can “drop by” any day during the Convention (October 9 thru October 16, 2016).

Catch up on your favorite author (and maybe even chat) and discover new authors in genres such as epic fantasy, urban fantasy, dark fantasy, children’s fantasy, Young Adult fantasy, Science Fiction, and Horror … to name just a few!

Booths are hosted by authors, bloggers, editors, artists, and publishers. And there will be a Cosplay booth (and contest), Blog Hop Hunt booth, booths for panel discussions, and a new booth this year: an Author Cache Sale booth.

NOTE: Each day of the convention, the Author Cache Sale booth will only offer the works of authors participating on that particular day of the Con–so be sure to check the Sale booth each day for new selections.

Special thanks to Carol March, Raven Williams, Denise Garrou, and the many others (myself included) who have worked behind the scenes to bring you the Virtual Fantasy Con for 2016.

Schedule

Sun, October 9th – Epic/Sword & Sorcery (Includes High Fantasy)

Mon, October 10th – Sci-Fi/Sci-Fantasy/Time-Travel

Tue, October 11th – Fairytale/Punk (Includes all versions of Punk)

Wed, October 12th – Paranormal/Urban

Thu, October 13th – Series/Short Stories (Includes all subgenres of Fantasy Series & Collections/Anthologies of Short Stories)

Fri, October 14th – Dystopian/Apocalyptic

Sat, October 15th – Dark/GrimDark/Horror

Sun, October 16th – Children/YA Fantasy

PERSONAL APPEARANCE – MARC ROYSTON

MARK YOUR CALENDAR and JOIN ME AT MY BOOTH on:

Sunday, October 9th (Epic); and
Saturday, October 15th (Horror).

To find out more about the event check out the following social media links:

Last year (2015) was the first year of the Virtual Fantasy Con. I was privileged to be one of the original authors to participate. I had no idea what to expect. The Virtual Fantasy Con was my first online convention. (And it remains the only online convention for speculative fiction that I know.) As I recall, there were a little over 200 participants, and we had several thousand guests who came through our booths each day. Discussions were always lively, and the crowd was WONDERFUL. I always enjoy talking with fellow fans of speculative fiction–and, of course, I always enjoy talking with fans of my work. It was an enthusiastic gathering who shared their love, their questions, and their news and opinions about the latest and ongoing projects of authors who are well-known and established and of authors who are emerging and of authors who are just beginning. Hosting a booth was good exposure for any author (at whatever level of their career), but it was more the joy shared among the community and the discussions I was a part of that made the Virtual Fantasy Con an enduring event. And here we are again. I’m back, so you know it must be good!

I believe we are closer to 400 participants this year (2016). And, we have expanded genres and included more publishers and artists. We’re bigger than before and expecting bigger crowds. Word of mouth has spread, and will continue to spread each year. The convention can only grow. But I’m sure we’ll always have that special intimacy where fans and readers can connect with authors, artists, and publishers directly–and discover new treasure.

If you are any kind of fan of Fantasy, Science Fiction, or Horror, the Virtual Fantasy Con is an event that you cannot miss.

BECOME AN APPRENTICE! Click FOLLOW on the right of your screen to stay tuned for updates and for exclusive material on Marc Royston’s A Wizard’s Life, an epic adult fantasy soon to be released as a serialized novel.

I am Marc Royston, author of Hecate’s Faun (available now at Amazon.com), The Story of Méabh (current project), and The Wizard Ignites (Volume I of A Wizard’s Life) (UPCOMING RELEASE FOR 2016 from My Boy Publishing).

For this stop of the tour, I am your happy host. Welcome to my worlds of fantasy, horror, and science fiction. Keep your shoes off the sofa. And remember: the demons bite.

If you have read the instructions for participation as posted on the event page for A Celebration of Author’s Blog Hop Hunt, you know that you have to find a number somewhere on this page (and on every host’s page for this event). Add up the clues you find along the way, and you can enter the contest for a chance to win a FABULOUS PRIZE.

One lucky winner will receive a GRAND PRIZE BUNDLE. Once the hunt begins, there is a week to play and then to submit your answers.

If you would like to find out more about the A Celebration of Author’s Blog Hop Hunt, please click here:

Directions: Somewhere on this page, there is a number listed (hint: the number is highlighted in RED). Collect all the numbers of all the host authors, and then add them up. Once you’ve added up all the numbers, and if I am your first and last author/blog or webpage, you can fill out the form here to officially qualify for the prize OR go to the Blog Hop Hunt blog and click on the ENTER HERE page to find the entry form.

Only entries that have the correct number will qualify.

For this juncture of A Celebration of Author’s Blog Hop Hunt for February 2016, I am pleased to present my friend and colleague, the wonderful ELLEN MAE FRANKLIN.

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From the Desk of ELLEN MAE FRANKLIN:

FANTASY! It is a word that holds the reader’s imagination in the palm of a writer’s hand. The very word oozes unpredictable delights and will no matter whether you are willing or not take you on a journey that begs to be believed.

As a fantasy writer, I am self-indulgent in the belief that anything is possible in the writing world. Grimdark/gritty/epic and traditional fantasy is where I dwell, so grab onto your seats, settle down with a cuppa or two and lose yourself in the worlds I create. I fall in love with every one of my characters and am thankful they are a part of my life. It is such a pleasure to share them with you.

Born in Adelaide, South Australia I am a mother, a social media maven and an author who loves what she is doing – writing. You will find me on a plethora of social networking sites, from Twitter and Facebook to Tumblr, RebelMouse, Goodreads, Linkedin and Pinterest as I connect with readers and other authors on various platforms.

I am involved in various writing and creative communities and contribute to an online Blog, where twelve writers produce short stories of various genres called Out of Print – http://out0fprint.wordpress.com/

Ellen Mae Franklin is currently working on subsequent manuscripts and is involved in various writing, and creative communities. She would like to share an excerpt from the fourth book in the Tarkeenia series – A Fighting Chance:

Most of Shard lay underground. Vast caverns hollowed out beneath the core of the mountain Roedanth’s now lived in and it served his purposes well. One of the caves acted as a parade ground for his new recruits. Stalactites hung from the cavernous roof, threatening spikes of limestone and crystal and more than a few eyes wandered in unease as they gazed up at the wondrous sight.

They filled the chamber, almost shoulder to shoulder. Men and women, row upon row of peasants, soldiers and mercenaries stood in the wait. Kahlu had procured an assortment of misfits. Sad souls who dreamt of a new life in a new world, they pined for comfort and salvation and in this yearning Shard were a white beacon in a dark world.

‘It’s going to be quite the opposite you poor shits,’ Roedanth looked down upon them with satisfaction. ‘Just look at you all! A crowd of pleasers, not the army I was hoping for but you soon will be. Those that survive anyway’, and he laughed. A hollow sound void of love and fear.

Kahlu didn’t hang about the doorway, he had heard enough, seen enough and had learned a while back to keep a straight face. Not to give away a lick of what he was feeling. He listened to the lord of Shard’s laugh, heard the evil intent behind it and turned away. There had to be a place where he could feel like a man again.

Roedanth raised his hand, singling out Mallic from the front of a roughly ordered crowd. He waved him up and with a smart salute, the rough ragtag broke the ranks. Casting a triumphant look over his shoulder at Tinker and Jacket, it was a proud soldier who went to stand before his master.

“Sir, the troops are ready for your inspection.”

“Is that what you think they are? Soldiers Mallic?” Roedanth’s voice was low and dangerous. He had grown some these many months, matured into the son of a God.

“We have been training almost every waking hour to be as ready as we can for you sire. I can’t help it if half of them have never seen the pointy end of a blade before. Farmers and thieves the lot of them, but as fodder they will do.” Mallic was so sure, so cocky of his tenuous grip on leadership, that Roedanth almost rolled his eyes at the proclamation.

“Your rolled up mob of pretenders will need to be ready Mallic. And as you say, the slackers will be weeded out.”

A flicker of suppressed anger crossed the former soldier’s face, the darkening of eyes and a tightening of the mouth. But he knew enough to keep his thoughts quiet, after all, where would he go? The hole he’d dug for himself would either bury him alive or offer up a life, better than the one he had left behind. Mallic turned the sour look into a submissive mien and Roedanth nodded. The meeting was over.

“You are promoted to the rank of Captain, Mallic now go join your men.” Roedanth turned to leave, but thought the better of it, “and Mallic find 36 who you know will serve me well, men who understand the value of death. One in particular should favor immorality as much as he does breathing. I want you to be ready in seven day’s. Make sure those you choose will be up for the challenge, for I have something rather special that needs doing.”

* * *

I hope you enjoyed this sneak preview and if you would like to win a printed copy of the first book – The Unseen Promise to begin your fantastical journey into Tarkeenia, please enter the Rafflecopter on the website – http://authorellenmaefranklin.weebly.com/for a chance to win.

If you love fantasy as much as I, perhaps you would like to join the Mystical Mages Street Team. This wonderful group of people help Raven and myself in sharing not only our books on social media, but to be the voice of this incredible genre.https://www.facebook.com/groups/1677863542450617/

FREE FOR READERS – This group is to offer the listing of free books to readers. It is the hope that any author using this group will invite / add 4 readers as well to give them the chance to benefit from many great reads. As a writer it is all about exposure!! at the end of the day for each and everyone of us.https://www.facebook.com/groups/1461599994100198/

FANTASY:Flavour of Fantasy is a group whose members love Fantasy in all its forms. There are so many sub-genres that it makes being a member a fun place to be. Only Authors of this genre may promote in this group, but anyone can join if you wish to learn more what it can offer.https://www.facebook.com/groups/997839853579833/

FANTASY:Flight of Imagination is a page dedicated to the genre of fantasy/sci-fi and horror. It reflect the voice of fantasy as I embody to share with readers and author like mind my love of this genre

BECOME AN APPRENTICE! Click FOLLOW on the right of your screen to stay tuned for updates and for exclusive material on Marc Royston’s A Wizard’s Life, an epic adult fantasy soon to be released as a serialized novel.

BECOME AN APPRENTICE! Click FOLLOW on the right of your screen to stay tuned for updates and for exclusive material on Marc Royston’s A Wizard’s Life, an epic adult fantasy soon to be released as a serialized novel.

Hecate’s Faun has been reviewed at Albedo One (“Ireland’s longest running and foremost magazine of the Fantastic”).

Albedo One is the premiere magazine of fantasy, horror and science fiction published in Ireland, and is the winner of three European Science Fiction Society Awards including Best Magazine (1997) and Best Publisher (1999).

“Vivid, eloquent prose”

“Absolutely Captivating”

“The author’s way with words make for a great ‘how-to’ guide, especially when it comes to establishing pacing and atmosphere.”

“A great starting point for authors looking to enrich their own style and a great buy for lovers of the gothic horror and magical realism genre.”

BECOME AN APPRENTICE! Click FOLLOW on the right of your screen to stay tuned for updates and for exclusive material on Marc Royston’s A Wizard’s Life, an epic adult fantasy soon to be released as a serialized novel.